All Chapters of The Billionaire's Rebellious Bride: Chapter 1 - Chapter 9

~HAILEY POV~The chandelier above our dining table was too bright. It always was. It had hundreds of little lights and glass pieces that made everything shine. My father liked it that way. He said light showed power. But all it did was make my head hurt and remind me that nothing in this house was really mine.The table was full of silver forks and knives, polished so much I could see my face in them. Plates with gold edges, glasses that sparkled. My father loved order, perfection, and control. He thought life should be clean like the table. No mistakes, no mess. Just rules.I sat at the far end, the black leather chair too big, the mood too serious. My plate had food on it steak, potatoes, something greenbut my stomach felt tight and hard. I didn’t want to eat. I couldn’t.Then my father spoke, calm and cold like always, and my life cracked open.“You will be married in three weeks.”The words fell into the room like stones dropping into water knocking my breath off. I froze. My f

~HAILEY POV~The steak came next, carried on shiny silver plates by the butler, whose gloves sparkled under the light.It looked juicy, thick, and perfect. The smell filled the room with a rich, buttery scent that made it feel smaller. My stomach growled loudly, like a loud shout in a quiet place.I felt my face get hot with embarrassment. I looked at my stomach like it had done something wrong. What a traitor.I picked up my knife and fork with stiff fingers, aiming for relaxed boredom, but my grip hesitated just enough to show weakness. The first slice cut too easily, juices bleeding into the porcelain like spilled wine.My throat moved before my brain caught up. I slipped the bite past my lips.And nearly moaned.The flavor hit hard…..smoky, tender, almost obscene in how good it was. My eyes nearly rolled back, traitorous in their own rebellion.Damn it.I forced my expression flat, chewing louder than necessary, like I wanted everyone at this table to hear just how unimpressed I w

~HAILEY POV~Dinner ended on a sour note, like a bitter aftertaste that refused to leave my tongue. My father’s patience had snapped like a rope stretched too tight. I knew when we got home it would be me who paid for it. But right there at the table, I still couldn’t bring myself to care. My stubbornness was louder than fear, for now at least.Santino, oh so gracious in his fine suit, escorted us to the front door like he was a polite gentleman. His steps were slow, confident, too smooth, like a predator pretending to be harmless. His gaze kept sliding to me, snapping quick, staying for a second too long before he looked away. It made the hairs on my arms stand up, like he could see too much of me.When he finally spoke, his voice was velvety.“Mr Carter,” he said, turning to my father. His eyes were quick, but the lazy smile pulling at his mouth told me his words would sting.“As you’ve seen tonight, your daughter lacks the bearing and manners fit for the daughter-in-law of the p

Hailey’s POVThe house was quiet when I returned. The kind of quiet that made the walls feel alive, listening, waiting for someone to slip.I stood by the main door, my shoes in my hand, my heart racing like a criminal sneaking into a vault. The clock above the hallway ticked softly 2:47 a.m. I winced. My father’s guards were probably asleep by now, but I couldn’t take chances. One wrong creak and I’d be dead before dawn, at least socially.I tiptoed across the marble floor, the cold seeping into my bare feet. Every sound felt too loud the click of my ring against the doorframe. I passed the living room, still smelling faintly of cigar smoke and oak polish, then hurried up the staircase, clutching my heels like they were weapons.When I reached my door, I exhaled slowly, fingers trembling as I turned the handle. The familiar scent of my vanilla candles greeted me. Safe. Finally.I dropped my shoes, peeled off my nightdress, and collapsed face-first onto the bed. The night replayed in

THIRD PERSON POVHailey hadn’t expected to see Dorian that night. She had barely stepped away from her mother’s side when his familiar scent reached her sharp cologne and something warm, like smoke and citrus. He looked effortlessly charming as usual, his dark hair slicked back, his suit tailored to perfection. He was standing in the midst of about eight young beautiful ladies, each of them exquisitely dressed. When his gaze found hers across the ballroom, he smirked, the kind of smirk that always got him into trouble.“Hailey Carter,” he said, his tone teasing as he walked over. “Looking like sin in heels tonight. You trying to kill a few hearts?”She rolled her eyes, though a small smile played on her lips. “You’re late.”“Fashionably,” he said with a wink. “Where’s the groom-to-be? Brooding in a corner somewhere?”“Don’t start,” she warned but she smiled warmly.But Dorian’s smirk faded when she slipped the small folded note from her clutch and handed it to him discreetly. His expr